


Gay Bar Challenge

by mysid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Potions, SBRL_Glovesmack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: While Sirius is in Azkaban, Remus runs into a couple of old acquaintances in a gay bar.





	1. Research

**Author's Note:**

> These were two entries written in accordance with the “Gay Bar” challenge on SB/RL GloveSmack. Required items were a choice of two possible first lines, three items each from a list, and--of course--the setting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilderoy Lockhart never overlooks an opportunity to do research for his books.

**Research**

“I never thought I’d find you in a place like this,” Remus said as he took a seat opposite the blond-haired wizard. “It might tarnish your public image to be seen in a gay bar.”

“Public image?” the man repeated. “I’m afraid—you must have me confused with someone else.” He smoothed his moustache nervously, as if checking that it was still in place.

“Come now, Gilderoy. The winner of Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Charming Smile Award’? And every time I pass Flourish and Blotts, I have to pass that life size poster of you on a fake broomstick, not to mention dozens of copies of your latest book with you grinning on the cover. If you want to be unrecognized, it’ll take more than a fake moustache.”

“All right,” Lockhart replied, his smile replaced by a hard, calculating look. “How much?”

“Excuse me?” Remus laughed.

“For your silence. How much?”

“I’m not blackmailing you, Lockhart. I was just surprised to see a former schoolmate here. This isn’t exactly The Leaky Cauldron.”

“We went to school together?” Lockhart’s brow wrinkled as he tried to place Remus’s face.

“I was three years behind you, Gryffindor. There’s no reason for you to remember me.”

“No,” Lockhart laughed. “Our two houses didn’t mix.”

“Not in any good ways, at least.”

“But you remember _me_ at school, of course. Quidditch team and all.”

“You were a reserve player who never played.” Remus considered listing what else he remembered about the young Gilderoy Lockhart. He had complained loudly to anyone who would listen that the prefect position had been given to Lucius Malfoy instead of himself simply because of Malfoy’s family connections, and he had failed his Herbology N.E.W.T. because he was caught cheating. Instead, Remus merely said, “I remember that you didn’t seem to get along with the other Slytherins.”

“Well, I simply couldn’t understand how bowing and scraping before You-Know-Who would further my literary career.”

Mention of Lockhart’s literary career brought to mind some of the more ridiculous passages in one of Lockhart’s books; Remus had to smile. “I read _Wanderings with Werewolves_. I have to ask, the time that you used a Homorphus Charm to force a werewolf back into human form—”

“Yes?” Lockhart grinned eagerly and leaned forward.

“Are you sure it wasn’t moonset? Because it _wouldn’t_ work. The Homorphus Charm will force an animagus back into human form, but it won’t work on a werewolf.”

“Of course it would.”

“No, it wouldn’t; trust me.” They had all mastered the charm before his friends attempted the animagus transformation just in case one of them got “stuck,” and James had insisted on trying it on Remus at the end of fifth year. They had temporarily eliminated the staircase within the Shrieking Shack. James stayed in human form on the upstairs landing, out of the frenzied wolf’s reach, and repeatedly tried the charm on the wolf below. The spell had had no effect on Remus.

Lockhart’s smile faltered slightly but returned full power. “My dear fellow, I do believe that I am the Defence expert here. How many books have you published?”

“None,” Remus admitted. 

Lockhart crossed his arms confidently and leaned back again. “There you are.” 

“But I have had articles published in _The Dark Arts and You_ and in _Defence Quarterly_. I’m also one of the authors of the latest edition of _A Beginners Guide to Defence Against the Dark Arts_ ; it’ll be coming out next spring.”

“Yes, well, uh,” Lockhart cleared his throat. “A _Beginner’s_ Guide—not exactly in the same league as my works.”

“Not even remotely,” Remus agreed. “I write non-fiction.”

“Would you like to come home with me?” Lockhart asked abruptly.

“Me?” Remus stared in surprise. He’d done nothing but bait the man since he sat down. Lockhart should be trying to get away from him, not asking him home. But, since Lockhart was asking him home—he had come here looking for sex. Why not enjoy silk sheets—he was quite certain that Lockhart would have silk sheets—instead of up against a bathroom wall or in his dingy flat? And, it might be enjoyable to have sex with a wizard again. Certain charms could make sex rather interesting. “All right.”

* * * * *

“So, uh—” 

“Remus.” Remus put aside the glass of beer that Gilderoy had given him. He didn’t care for the taste; it was a touch too sweet. Lockhart probably liked it that way. He’d been drinking some grenadine-laced concoction at the bar.

“Remus, why don’t you tell me about the time you encountered a werewolf?” 

“The first time?” Remus asked without thinking. He tried to create a convincing lie, but all he could focus on was the night his life had irrevocably changed. He remembered the rain falling against his bedroom window and realizing that his teddy bear was still in the tree he’d climbed that afternoon. If Teddy became moldy, his mother might throw him away.

“You’ve met more than one?” Lockhart asked as he went to an elegant writing desk to fetch a notebook and a quill. Remus’s mind flew forward several years to the first time he had to spend a full moon in a Ministry approved containment facility.

“Yes, I’ve met quite a few over the years.” Remus knew that he hadn’t meant to say that. He’d only had one drink at the bar; his mind shouldn’t feel this sluggish. 

Lockhart tapped the tip of the quill on the notebook and left it standing upright. “Then let’s start with the first time you met a werewolf. Where was this?” The quill began to copy down Lockhart’s words.

“In the woods behind my house. Mummy wouldn’t let me out after dark, but if I stood on a chair, I could reach the keys on their hook.” Remus’s eyes grew wide as he realized that he couldn’t stop himself from telling the story. 

Lockhart merely smiled and pulled an empty vial from his pocket. “Yes, Veritaserum. What happened next?”

_—Written June 2004_


	2. Just Call Me ‘Fil’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartender Remus encounters a familiar person.

**Just Call Me 'Fil'**

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here,” said a high-pitched voice from the end of the bar. The voice was familiar, although Remus didn’t place it immediately. He looked toward the voice and saw a new arrival perched on a stool at the far end of the bar. 

“Professor Flitwick!” Remus wiped his hand on a bar towel as he went over to shake the tiny wizard’s hand. “What a pleasant surprise to see you again.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Remus, although I had hoped that the next time I’d see you that I’d find you gainfully employed in a profession better suited to your abilities. However, as I was saying, I’m not surprised to find that you’ve taken refuge in the Muggle world.”

“I thought you were saying that you weren’t surprised to see me in this little section of the Muggle world,” Remus replied with a sweeping glance that took in the exclusively male clientele of _Chester’s_.

Flitwick chuckled. “Well, perhaps that too. You were discrete, but—” He chuckled again.

“But you were observant.” 

“I once saw you kissing someone in the stacks of the library.”

Remus felt his back stiffen at the reference to “someone.” Flitwick was trying to spare his feelings by leaving Sirius unnamed, but Remus knew that he had to be the one the professor meant. He was, after all, the only person he’d been involved with at school. However, the professor didn’t necessarily know that.

“What can I get for you, Professor?”

“A half-pint of Guinness, please. More than that’s too much for me.”

Remus returned to the taps. One aspect of the wizarding world that he had not missed was being reminded of Sirius. The reminders and the whispers, far more than the difficulty in finding steady employment, had driven him away.

* * * * *

_“Lupin? Wasn’t he a friend of the Potters?”_

_“And of Sirius Black. The only the only one of Black’s friends he didn’t kill. A bit suspicious if you ask me.”_

* * * * *

_“Lupin? I heard he used to live with Sirius Black. You can’t convince me that he wasn’t in it with him.”_

_“He must have suspected at least.”_

* * * * *

Remus allowed the Guinness to settle into its layers of mink-brown liquid and tan foam while he poured a gin and tonic for one of the “leather twins.” They were semi-regulars. One appeared to be Anglo-Indian, the other pure Celt. Their body language, never out of touching distance of one another, as much as their matching clothes—one was in black leather from shoulder to toe (red chevrons on the back of the jacket) and the other was in red leather (black chevrons)—proclaimed their couple status. And yet, they eyed the other men in the bar with the predatory air of those seeking companionship for the night. It had taken Remus three nights of seeing them hunt to realize that they were in search of someone to share for the night. 

He topped off the Guinness with a final kiss of tap to foam and brought the glass to the man waiting patiently. “Here you are, Professor.”

“No need to be so formal, my dear boy. In Muggle company, I use the name ‘Fil.’”

“Fil,” Remus repeated obediently, wondering if it would feel strange to call one of his teachers by his first name, or at least a shortened form of such. He found it didn’t feel strange at all. He was no longer a schoolboy; Hogwarts was now seven years in his past. “Seven years,” he mused aloud. “I’ve been out of Hogwarts for as long as I was there.”

“That is a milestone,” Flitwick agreed as he raised his glass. “I’ll drink to it for you.”

Remus had to hurry away to attend to a few more patrons at the bar. He glanced over at the Professor occasionally and saw that he was watching the crowd. He didn’t watch with the predatory air of the leather twins, but with the attitude of a spectator at a sedate sport or an artistic performance. He watched the crowd but wasn’t a part of it. It rather reminded him of the way James would watch the crowd when he accompanied Sirius and Remus to places like this.

* * * * *

_“Sweet Merlin, would you look at that one!” James exclaimed._

_“Poofs on display for Prongs’s amusement,” Sirius said as he leaned his head on Remus’s shoulder._

_“At least explain to me why a bloke would dress like a bird if he’s trying to attract a bloke who likes blokes?”_

* * * * *

Remus suddenly felt acutely annoyed by Flitwick’s presence. He’d managed to go almost all day without thinking about Sirius and his murdered friends. Now Flitwick showed up, and he couldn’t stop thinking about them. More importantly, if Flitwick wasn’t here for the obvious reason, why was he here? Had Dumbledore tracked down his pet werewolf and sent Flitwick to check on him? 

“So what brings you here, Professor?” Remus asked with a deliberate smile. 

“The Three Broomsticks is an excellent establishment, but not a place that men such as we can find companionship.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, this crowd seems a bit young for you.”

“Younger—and taller,” Flitwick replied with a giggle. “But I find that a crowd like this one usually contains at least one ‘collector.’”

“Collector?”

“A man who wants to be able to say that he’s tried everything at least once. Such men usually decide that sex with a dwarf is something they want to add to their collection. Of course, I’m using the Muggle definition of dwarf.”

“Of course,” Remus agreed. He felt chastened for imagining that Flitwick’s presence had had anything to do with him. _“Or?”_ As he returned to work, he couldn’t help but wonder if Flitwick might be a collector. _“One werewolf—check.”_

_—Written June 2004_


End file.
